Revenge of the Thirteen

Daphne Fong

Description

Some say the pen is mightier than the sword, but to survive in this world you have to learn to use both! When psychopath Earl seeks revenge on the Vasquez family, the four children are thrown headlong into a world with no limits of time or fantasy, where every move is being manipulated. It's getting harder to survive and when the final test comes a huge leap of faith is needed...

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 02 août 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781907203404
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
REVENGE OF THE THIRTEEN
Daphne Fong



Publisher Information
Local Legend Publishing UK
www.local-legend.co.uk
Digital edition converted and distributed in 2012 by
Andrews UK Limited 2012
www.andrewsuk.com
Copyright © 2011 Daphne Fong
All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher.
Cover Design by Titanium Design
www.titaniumdesign.co.uk
Edited by Claire Pickering
www.theeditinghouse.com
Internal illustrations Copyright © 2010 Beth Roberts - All rights reserved



Dedication
I’d like to dedicate this book to my parents - Mom, Dad, I couldn’t have done this without you. You were my inspiration for this book. Thanks for always being there for me!



About the Author
Daphne Fong was born in 1998 in the east of Hong Kong, but is currently residing in Pudong, Shanghai. She published her first article at the age of 9 in the Shanghai Daily and frequently wrote for her primary-school newsletter in the fifth grade. She has won numerous awards for English, including a prize for the Harris Burdick Short Story competition. Daphne is presently studying at Dulwich College, Shanghai.
Revenge of the Thirteen is Daphne’s debut novel - written when she was just 11 yrs old.


Daphne Fong



Chapter One
He looked down. His shoes were covered in a brown substance that smelt distinctly of horse excrement.
‘Ew!’
The man slowly bent down, produced a small plastic bag from his pocket and gingerly scooped the rest of the faeces into it. He didn’t want the police to stumble upon his footprint, arrest him and lock him up before he had a chance to watch his plan in action. Oh no. Not now. The fun was just about to begin.
Slipping off his dirty shoes, he surveyed his surroundings. He’d just have to complete the rest of his task barefoot. The thunder rumbled menacingly in the vast heavens. Lightning struck, momentarily painting the sky a blinding white, and the wind howled a mournful wail as if sensing that tonight, of all nights, was different. How did it know... ?
The man lurked in the shadows, grasping a box tightly to his chest. It wasn’t the box that was so very vital to the completion of his mission. It was the thing inside it. It was something eerie. Something dangerous. Something that would change the Vasquez children’s lives forever.
Silently, the figure picked his way through overgrown weeds, thorny shrubbery and the ivy-covered shed in the garden, making his way towards the Vasquez mansion. He was mindful to tread carefully this time. He didn’t want to step in manure again. The mansion stood proudly and stolidly as the rain beat down on its whitewashed walls and four chimneys. Perfect for climbing.
With a practised hand, the person threw a tough rope lasso high up into the air, looping it skilfully around one of the chimneys. He pulled out two more plastic bags and slipped them over his feet, so as not to leave any muddy footprints on the sides of the great house, although the pouring rain would probably wash them away. Whatever. It never hurt to be too cautious.
Carefully, he attached two specially made suction cups to the soles of his feet to get a good grip on the wall. He tugged three times on his lasso, making sure that it was secure. Then he gracefully leapt into the air and scaled the wall with ease, the object clamped under his arm. When he finally got onto the roof, he undid the lasso, rolled it into a ball and tucked it under his arm. With a grunt, he stepped into the chimney (which, fortunately, was large enough for a grown man to slip through) and fell feet-first, landing lightly on the balls of his feet in the fireplace. It wasn’t lit. Luck was on his side tonight.


Squinting in the darkness, he could just make out the blurry outline of a cupboard, with the door left ajar. Perfect. With a sinister grin plastered across his sooty face, he yanked off the plastic bags and suction cups and stealthily made his way across the floor. Trembling, the man hooked his slender fingers around the knob and pulled open the unlocked door. He placed the mystery object in the hall cupboard and gently closed it again.
Silently, he tiptoed off to the den and shoved a small oval object under the sofa cushion. With a smile, he snook out of the house and into the cold burst of wind and rain that met him outside, grabbing his soiled shoes and the small plastic bag containing the excrement along the way. He’d been successful.
A bolt of lightning struck the roof of the mansion. Nothing spectacular. But then another one struck, in the exact same spot. And again. And again. And again...
***
‘Thirteen times. Lightning struck the Vasquez house thirteen times!’ Cole gleefully cried, leaning forward and kissing the computer screen in elation. He gazed happily at the monitor, which was a feed from one of the secret cameras he had concealed in a tree beside the mansion. His servant bowed. ‘Ah, job well done, mate. The dung-covered shoes... well, that was an odd touch, but you cleared that up nicely. By the way, I like your choice of victim. I think he’ll be a great addition to our group.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Earl smiled, straightening up and seating himself in one of the swivel chairs beside Cole. He watched as his master impatiently brushed his blonde hair out of his eyes. He resisted the urge to tell him to get a haircut. ‘I placed the box in the hall cupboard. I also planted the turtle in the den,’ he continued, looking at the computer screen proudly. ‘Both shouldn’t be too hard for them to find. What I don’t get is why the lightning struck so many times. It usually just strikes twice. Tonight it struck thirteen times. Why?’
Cole grinned, revealing his dazzlingly white teeth, and even though Earl was used to his master’s movie-star features, he couldn’t help but stare and was reminded once again of the reason girls kept knocking down their door. ‘It means, my friend, that this is gonna be the biggest challenge yet. Let the games begin!’
His servant smiled uneasily. He could barely handle the victims of the double lightning strike. How was he going to be able to do this? And there were four obstructions, not just one .
‘Sir, why exactly do we have to do it this way?’ Cole stared back blankly. ‘I mean, why the trouble? Why do we have to screw up their heads with magic and time travel and all the stuff that normal, never-been-touched-by-lightning people call fantasy? Can’t we just tie them down and beat them with rocks until they give in and do what we say?’ Earl waited, wide-eyed, ready to listen to the wise words of wisdom his master was surely to bestow upon him.
Cole shrugged. ‘Cuz, dude, it’s fun!’



Chapter Two
The next morning, the rain had completely faded away. The only trace of the raging storm from the night before was the dewy grass and the water-soaked shed. All of a sudden, her alarm clock began blasting obnoxiously, shaking Samantha out of her sleep. ‘Shut up!’ she groaned, slapping the clock, which promptly fell off her bedside table and landed with a crash. To her annoyance, it kept on ringing. With a small amount of difficulty, the youngest child in the Vasquez family got out of her tangled duvet and stumbled onto the floor. Samantha opened the flap and wrenched out the batteries. Her mum could wake her up from now on.
Trudging into the bathroom, Samantha washed her face and cleaned her teeth, and then, refreshed, bounded down the stairs two at a time. She plonked herself down on one of the chairs around the kitchen table. Wake up! I want breakfast!’ she yelled, banging her fist on the linen tablecloth and nearly upsetting the jug of orange juice. Her big sister, Zoey, a 13-year old, staggered in sleepily, followed by Zoey’s twin, Zach, and her other brother, Tom.
‘Dude, it’s almost eleven. We’re all up. I’ll go make toast,’ said Zach, yawning. ‘Have some juice while you’re waiting.’ The others seated themselves at the table while their brother busied himself slotting slices of bread into the toaster. ‘Mum and Dad aren’t up, so we can’t go out yet. If you want, you guys can use my laptop .’
Zoey rolled her eyes. ‘If I wanted to waste my time on something useless, I’d try to find people who are prettier than I am,’ she muttered, finger-combing her dark locks.
Nobody reacted; they were all used to Zoey’s cockiness.
‘Whatever. You guys go ahead,’ sighed Tom, getting up. He glugged the rest of his juice, burped, then snickered at the disgusted look on his sisters’ faces. ‘I’m going to run some drills. You coming, Sam? I’ll get the football.’ He bounded over to the cupboard, motioning for his little sister to follow him.
‘It just rained! Can’t we just play football online? It’s less wet,’ pleaded Zach.
The toaster chimed and he hurried to grab the four hot slices of toast. Samantha hastily grabbed one of them.
‘Actually, Mum said yesterday that we need to feed the pets now since the housekeeper’s on Christmas leave,’ she said, taking a tiny bite of her breakfast.
Her siblings shrugged and munched into their meal; except for Zoey, who claimed she was on a diet. Samantha was completely unaware of the danger she had just saved her elder brother from. Neither was she aware that the line of fire was now pointing straight at someone else...
***
Using a pair of tongs, Tom dropped two dead mice into a bowl and set it gently on the floor. Immediately, his pet snake slid across the floor of the large shed and nudged the bowl with its nose.
‘Good boy,’ he murmured, smiling a